


Dissolution

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, midokise week 2k15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:50:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4322028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His mother can’t be calling this early for any good reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissolution

**Author's Note:**

> midokise week day 6: marriage

The phone rings early enough in the morning that they’re both still asleep—Ryouta sleeps through the ringing and Shintarou doesn’t fully register it before it stops. He’s certainly awake by that point, though, and has half a mind to curse out whoever the hell it is if they call again (probably a telemarketer, and while it wouldn’t be that person’s fault for doing what they were paid to, Shintarou doesn’t really care). The phone does ring again, about half a minute later, and this time Shintarou grabs his glasses stalks out into the hallway.

“Hello?”

“Shintarou?”

It’s his mother. He’s on good enough terms with his parents, and though they’d never been overly-involved in his life they keep correspondence up and visit on holidays (Ryouta calls their relationship weird, but Shintarou would call Ryouta’s relationship with his own parents weirder—and Shintarou’s sister has thankfully backed him up on this). Still, she can’t be calling this early for any good reason.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I suppose,” she says. “Your father and I have decided on something, and we thought you ought to know.”

If she’s telling him over the phone it can’t be that important.

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“What?”

Shintarou manages to croak out the word before it feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him, like a ten-ton drill bit has slammed into his chest. His parents have (had?) been together for almost forty years, married since a good while before he was born; they’ve never been overly-affectionate, holding each other at arm’s length but it’s the same way they are towards their children and it certainly doesn’t mean they love Shintarou or his sister any less than a more open set of parents would. Would it really take this long for them to realize that they can’t stand each other?

“We’re getting a divorce,” his mother repeats. “It’s just not working, Shintarou. We’ve talked about it; there’s nothing we can do and we only have so much time left to live life as we want it. It’s not that I’d hate living with your father for the rest of my life terribly, but we shouldn’t be stuck with each other just because.”

But what about all the memories they have? What about all the years they spent working on their relationship? Are they just going to give that up? There’s no way they’re going to find that instantly, or even have time to really build it up with other people. Shintarou’s grip tightens on the receiver.

“All right,” he says. “All right.”

“I’m glad you understand,” his mother says. “We’ll be sorting out the apartment and stuff within the next few weeks; everything will be relatively tidy.”

“Okay,” he says, only dimly aware of his own voice.

The rest of the conversation fades into a blur, and Shintarou doesn’t really register what she’s saying and it’s not really important because his parents are getting a divorce. They’re dissolving their marriage matter-of-factly; as far as he knows there have been no blowout fights and no other people involved and no secrets and lies, only a firm decision and a plan for the future. Shintarou shouldn’t be so uncomfortable with this; he doesn’t live with his parents, hasn’t for years. His sister doesn’t, either. Had they been one of the few things keeping his parents together? Had there been too much empty space between them that they didn’t realize their children filled? Had they drifted too far apart to reconcile the aloneness? It doesn’t sound as if they’re on bad terms with each other, so it won’t make holidays or family events awkward, and that’s not really what Shintarou should even be thinking about right now. After they say their goodbyes, he stands with his hand still on the receiver for several minutes—this might all be a very surreal dream; any minute he might wake up in bed with Ryouta half-spooning him but still kicking him. It’s not a real morning if he hasn’t done it according to routine—but he’s gone off routine before, recently, when Ryouta’s been sick or when they’ve fallen asleep on the couch because it’s late on a Friday night and they’ve been cuddling in front of the television—moving in with Ryouta, who rarely does things the same way twice, has been an invasion of his routine, a lesson in pushing and pulling for both of them.

But they’re still here, still very invested in their relationship. For now.

Shintarou doesn’t bother to try and go back to sleep; at this point it’s probably not an option. Instead, he makes tea and waits for Ryouta to wake up, staring into the bottom of his mug at the murky liquid. It doesn’t take that long for Ryouta to wander out; the mornings are cool and the bed is noticeably less warm when one of them leaves for longer than a few minutes and Ryouta’s quite sensitive to temperature.

“Is everything okay?”

Shintarou starts to nod but then doesn’t. “My mom called. My parents are getting a divorce.”

Ryouta’s eyes widen; the surprise is not manufactured. And it’s not a thing that happens very often; this kind of confession is usually made between elementary-schoolers and they deal with it as it comes, being dragged back and forth from one parent to the other and moving and transferring schools. He covers Shintarou’s hand on the table, caressing the back of it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry.”

Shintarou shrugs. “I just…I.”

His throat half-closes. What if this happens to him and Ryouta someday? What if it’s already happening? What if their reluctance to even marry in the first place isn’t due to lack of seeing the need, to confidence in the relationship and not needing a document to seal the deal, but to the reluctance to deal with more documents in the future when this inevitably falls apart? What if all of the time and energy they’ve invested in this turns out to be a lost effort?

“Shintarou,” Ryouta says, squeezing his hand.

“Ryouta.”

He can’t quite look Ryouta in the eye.

“Are you worried?”

“About my parents? No. They’ve got everything figured out.” (It comes out more than a little bitter.)

“No. About us.”

Shintarou swallows, and that’s probably all the confirmation Ryouta needs. Ryouta can’t promise he won’t lose interest the way he loses interest in almost everything—this insecurity hasn’t been in the front of Shintarou’s mind since the very beginning of their relationship, but he can feel it creeping back up like poison ivy in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” says Ryouta. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes,” says Shintarou (no matter how many times he hears it, he can’t help but feel it’s a tiny miracle). “And I love you.”

“Good,” says Ryouta, smiling. “Then we’re okay. You’re not your parents, you know. Just because they broke up doesn’t mean we will.”

Shintarou squeezes Ryouta’s hand—there’s not much he can say here, no way he can express the gratitude and ease rushing through him right now. It’s just a simple set of words, but Ryouta’s faith in their relationship is like a huge bulwark strengthening it right down into the foundations. They have a lot more to talk about, but for now he’s right—they’re okay. And that’s a damn good place to be.


End file.
